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Authentic™

  • Writer: Sylvie Astrid
    Sylvie Astrid
  • Jul 29
  • 2 min read

Updated: Aug 12

black and white photo from above of children drawing with chalk on the ground

We are living in an age of image.

A photo with the bridge behind us,

but no memory of the breeze that day.


A cheerful “how are you?”

with no interest in the answer.


A brand that says “less sugar!”

— less than what?

 

We pass each other gestures and replies,

and call it intimacy.

 

We’ve been taught to value the appearance of things.

To look the part.

To speak in polished phrases.

To perform clarity instead of sitting in it.

 

We’re rewarded for seeming composed —

for saying the right thing,

in the right tone,

at the right time.

 

But performance isn't the same as presence.

And life isn’t a composition.

 

We don't need to appear thoughtful —

we need to be present.


We mistake the word for the thing.

We name things so quickly,

we forget to know them.


But the letters t-r-e-e are not the tree.

The word is not bark or roots.

It’s not shade or sap or dry leaves falling.

 

Once we learn the word,

we often stop noticing the thing itself.

 

We stop experiencing it.

We call it by name — and move on.

 

We do this with each other.

With ourselves.

And in branding.

 

We use the words we've absorbed —

elevated. bespoke. human.

 

But what do they really mean?

Are they lived — or just familiar, easy to monetize?

 

We start living from the image of the thing —

what sounds right, looks right, tests well —

instead of the thing itself.


Language becomes performance.

Branding becomes camouflage.

 

We speak from the idea of meaning,

not the presence of it.

 

From the appearance of connection,

not connection.

 

But you don’t need a polished performance.

You don’t need to say “I'm fine”

when what you really are is tender,

hopeful, weary, alive.

 

So what if we started again?

 

Not with adjectives.

Not with what’s trending.

Not with what sounds right.

 

But with attention.

Noticing.

 

Listening to the words that feel true in your mouth.

To the places you hesitate —

the ones that might reveal something real.

 

What do you know here, in your bones?

And how can you say that — clearly, honestly, with nothing added?

 

That’s where your expression begins.

Not in the image —

but in the experience.

 

Not in the brand voice —

but in the breath behind your words.



If you received this letter by email, you also got a P.S. — a practice to help you reconnect with presence through language. Want the next Little Letter to land in your inbox? Sign up here. Pass this on to someone who walks the world a bit like you do.


 
 
 

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